


Keep Each Other Safe From the World

by pitypartyof1



Series: Musical Inspiration [1]
Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe - 1990s, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Based on Waterparks, Established Relationship, M/M, Sad, Scenes Through Time, Seattle, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:57:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19839310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pitypartyof1/pseuds/pitypartyof1
Summary: You don’t automatically fall in love just because you meet your soulmate. The lights are just there to alert you, the rest is still some assembly required. Falling in love with Luke is the greatest adventure of Michael’s life.AKA The one where Luke and Michael are soulmates in Seattle in the 1990's.





	Keep Each Other Safe From the World

**Author's Note:**

> I originally posted the first part of this under a different pairing, but the more I tried to finish it, the more it didn't feel like the right one. I'm sorry to anyone who's already read the first part. It just feels more right to me this way. 
> 
> Inspired by the music video for Waterparks' "Lucky People". That video has always made me feel a little lost, and this is what it translated into.

**_Late November 2019 (Present)_ **

Michael tugs surreptitiously at the collar of his shirt, leaning against a pay phone as he waits for his cab. More often than not, his lights feel too tight, like they’re strangling him. Adjusting his shirt collar isn’t going to help and he knows it but attempting to adjust the lights would be worse. They’re not going to move. The last thing he wants is to draw attention to them, he already suffers too many knowing looks, pitying him as he tries to go about his life. In the dark, like now, he’s a beacon. The flickering brightness draws glances simply by illuminating the black. Sometimes he wonders what it’d be like if he used them to hang himself instead. Would the Universe allow it to happen that way? _Somehow_ , Michael thinks, _it would be cosmically fitting_.

*

**_16 th July 1991_ **

Michael wipes tiredly at his sweaty forehead. It’s been hours in the kitchen trying to get this right and throwing out at least two that failed miserably. It’s Luke’s 17th birthday, and he’s determined to bake an orange-infused chocolate cake. The recipe is in one of his mom’s old cookbooks and he _knows_ he can do it. It’s just – it’s harder than he’d anticipated, but this one is the charm, he thinks. This is the one that’s going to turn out. Got to be, he’s out of spare ingredients at this point and he patently refuses to drive to the store again.

A glob of batter drops heavily from the spoon as he scoops into the tin, landing and smearing over his geometric patterned sweater and lights. Swearing softly, he attempts to scoop it up with his finger. He’s definitely going to have to change and use a rag to try to get it out of the braided cord of his lights. It’s only been a year since he met Luke, he’s still not used to the way they wrap around him, seemingly permeable to his clothes and unbothered by water. Frowning, Michael sighs. Showering would probably be the better option after the heat of the kitchen. Hopefully he has time before Luke arrives, not that he doesn’t have a key. He’d just rather be waiting to greet him on his birthday. 

They don’t really have a lot, both just starting out in life. Luke still lives at home for the time being, but they have Michael’s tiny flat, so that’s something. When Luke finishes school, he’ll probably move in. That’s the plan, at any rate. Move in, attend university together, be happy. It’s a pretty general life plan, but that’s how they like it best. Plenty of wiggle room to do whatever they want and whatever it takes to achieve the end goal. They’re soulmates. There’s a zero percent chance of unhappiness, really. Well, they’ll have their lows, but not overall. Not unless they do it deliberately.

Sliding the tin into the preheated oven, Michael dashes upstairs to scrub himself down as quickly as possible. Part of him is still nervous the cake will burn if he takes too long. Still, he can’t help taking a few extra minutes to fret over his outfit, staring into his closet indecisively, a towel slung low over his hips. In the end, he’s still standing there when the timer goes off down the hall and he races exuberantly to the kitchen to pull the cake out, one hand gripping the towel the whole way. 

The loud beeping occupies his attention to the point that he fails to notice the flat’s additional occupant. Dutifully silencing the timer, the oven off, he carefully removes the tin, setting it on the stovetop to cool. Behind him, a throat clears, and Michael jumps so hard future generations will probably feel it. Swearing, he spins to see Luke, blue eyes dancing with mirth despite the hand over his mouth to stop himself laughing aloud.

“You’re not supposed to be here for at least another forty-five minutes!” he complains loudly, flipping off his amused boyfriend.

Luke shrugs, pushing away from the wall where he’d been reclined and sauntering forward. “Ditched last hour. ‘S that for me?” he asks, peering into the tin hopefully.

Huffing and annoyed, Michael pinches his left butt cheek. “You know your mom said she’d ban you coming over here if you don’t stop doing that shit.”

Yelping and rubbing at the sore area, Luke whirls. “We’re universe-destined life partners or whatever. I’d like to see her try,” he sniffs haughtily.

Michael grins despite himself. Luke’s got a point. “Yeah, alright, but you still gotta stop. If you wanna get into University of Washington with me once you graduate, you have to get your GPA up and get decent SAT scores, babe.”

Groaning, Luke hops up onto the edge of the countertop, swinging his legs slightly. “I know, but this year’s like a joke. None of the work is even hard, I just don’t wanna do it. I’m ready to be done, be here with you and studying shit that actually matters.”

“Yeah right,” Michael snorts, moving to stand between Luke’s bony knees, hands resting on his slim hips. “There’s pre-requisites in college, too, Lu. Gotta make it through those before you _really_ get to study what you want.”

Personally, Michael thinks it’s bullshit as well. Who the fuck needs to take a Biology course for a Bachelor’s in Music? It’s a joke and a waste of the money he works hard for at the shitty smoothie shop near the mall on Tuesday afternoons and weekends. He has a departmental scholarship, or he’d be fucked five ways to Sunday trying to afford a place to live. The loans cover tuition with just enough left over to pay rent. The smoothie shop money pays for everything else. He’ll admit, once Luke graduates next summer and moves in it’ll be nice to have the extra income, so he isn’t so spread thin and stressed.

Pressing his face into Luke’s shoulder, he sighs. “I can’t wait until you’re living here too, babe. Happy birthday.”

Luke’s warm arms wrap around his waist, giving a brazen tug to the towel, which falls to the floor immediately. “Happy birthday to me indeed,” Luke mumbles to himself as the shorter of the two blushes a soft pink.

“You’re fucking terrible,” Michael grouses, frowning in the face of Luke’s proud smirk. He thinks he’s so funny. “I’m going to get dressed. Stay there and don’t you dare touch the cake. I’ll let you help decorate once it’s cooled off enough.”

Neither one of them believes for a moment that Luke’s going to leave the cake alone. Trudging down the hall, Michael knows the blonde’s greedy little digits are already picking crumbs off the side. He’s such a spoiled little brat and he knows Michael loves him for it. Sliding open the closet door and yanking a pair of sweats off the shelf, he pulls them on, deciding commando’s alright. The sweats probably won’t be on for more than a few hours anyway. He makes an extra stop in the hallway bathroom on the way back, slapping some moisturizer over his face and making a disgruntled expression at his reflection. There’s dark scruff growing in heavy and he’s definitely due for a shave, which means he’ll have to scrounge up money for razors at some point. _Fuck_. Another goddamn thing he can’t afford. He grumbles, shutting the medicine cabinet a little more forcefully than he probably should. His apartment isn’t – well, it’s not good. Shutting a door too hard might bring the walls down around his knees.

As predicted, Luke has sticky fingers and a couple crumbs clinging around his lips when Michael returns to the kitchen a moment later. He smiles big with his tongue poking out and Michael feels some of his earlier frustration about finances drain away. The way his soulmate can soothe frayed nerves simply by being around, being himself, makes Michael question how the rest of society survives without them. He’s never had to wonder if someone loves him or supports him, neither has Lu. The two of them really are lucky people.

“C’mon,” he gestures to the grinning blonde to hop down from the counter. “Why don’t we go see if there’s anything good on, if the fucking TV’ll work.” Luke joins him a moment later, curls bouncing a little, eyebrow raised silently in challenge. Michael rolls his eyes and conveniently refuses to meet Luke’s.

“Where was it this time?”

“Under the sofa cushion,” Michael harrumphs. He’d kind of forgotten their argument on Sunday the previous weekend. Trust his boyfriend to hold onto that for two days just to rub his face in it. “But if you’d stop taking it all over the place with you when you get up, I’d stop blaming you every time it disappears!”

“I do not take the remote everywhere!” Luke exclaims indignantly, flicking his ear and pouting as he settles back into the cushions and flips on the small set.

“You do,” Michael murmurs under his breath when Luke’s attention is diverted searching for an episode of Darkwing Duck on ABC. Just last month, he’d found it in the cheese drawer after Luke went for a snack during a commercial break. On the screen, Drake Mallard becomes Darkwing Duck and he still can’t believe he allowed the blonde to get him hooked on the show in the first place. “I love you,” he says a little louder, taking in Luke’s blinding smile with a warm feeling in his chest.

“Love you, Mikey,” Luke beams happily. “When do we get to decorate the cake?”

Michael shakes his head, chuckling. “When it’s cooled, I promise.”

*

**_Early August 1993_ **

“Don’t – ” Luke’s wrist slips from his grip like water flows through fingers. It barely requires any effort. Michael would never hurt him, never try to force him into something he didn’t want, including staying. He wants desperately to reach out again, to hold fast this time, but he knows better. Luke has a way of transforming into both an inferno and a tsunami when he’s angry. He can burn Michael with a glance and drown him with the next breath.

Michael doesn’t cry, not in front of him. He never does, where as Luke cries all the time when they fight. Fifty percent of the time, the tears are what ends whatever fight they’re having. It’s not worth standing there and watching Luke fall apart before him. Michael would rather set it aside for another time, when they’re calmer, and take the moment to soothe his boyfriend. Being the more emotional of the two, Luke doesn’t always want his comfort.

This fight is one of those times and Michael’s breaking as Luke backs away. The blonde snags his Walkman and headphones from the small table by the door and Michael can’t just let him leave. Not this way. “Take the car,” he blunders, desperate to stop Luke walking out into the night. It works.

Luke pauses, glaring over his shoulder. Lips pressed thin and white, he stares, trying to figure if he’s being played. They don’t take the car, not anymore, not unless it’s unavoidable. They don’t have the money to put gas in it. Students, broke and barely able to afford their groceries along with all the other bills. “Can’t,” he hisses, “you know that.”

“I don’t care,” Michael rasps. “You heard what happened to Mia last month. I’m not getting that phone call. Take the car.”

Luke sneers. “Don’t be stupid. We can’t afford it and no one’s going to touch me, anyway. I’m not – ”

“You’re not a girl?” Michael snaps, cutting him off. “Maybe not. But you’re gay and people around here know it. They see us together, they know we’re soulmates. We’re the only people in the area with lights. You think someone needs more reason than that to fuck you up?” Breathing hard, he storms over, snatching up the keys and forcing them into Luke’s warm palm. “Take the fucking car.”

Luke is stubborn, but he’s not stupid. Michael turns, not wanting to see his boyfriend’s reaction beyond the gob smacked expression he’s sporting in that moment. They’re still young, he and Luke, but the two of them have never doubted each other. He knows Luke will trust him now, will take him at his word and either use the car or stay home.

They’d only seen the Gits play a few times, but what happened to Mia scares the shit out of Michael when he hears about it. It wasn’t even all that far away where she was walking. It could happen to anyone for any reason. It scares Luke too. Even if he puts on a brave face, Michael can see it.

As a realist, he knows they have targets on their backs for anyone looking for a reason. On their own, the two of them look like any other grungy just-past-teenagers, but they’re not on their own. They’re soulmates, they’re not allowed to hide like some of the other members of their community. They’re forced to be out whether they want to or not. Seattle’s one of the better places to be, but that’s not saying all that much.

Sighing, Michael paces the small bedroom, arms wrapped tightly around himself, almost like trying to self-soothe with a lonely approximation of a hug. One danger of being so deeply connected is the way every argument feels like it sucks the very life out of him. He only ever feels alive with Luke, and when they’re discordant, that liveliness dims.

The heavy arms that wrap around him a few minutes later are an old sweater on a cold day. Luke’s warm breaths puff against Michael’s neck in slow rhythm. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs tiredly. “It doesn’t matter anymore, whatever we were even mad about. You’re right. I’m- I’ll stay here.”

“I love you.” Michael relaxes back into the embrace, the words something whispery soft. Sometimes Luke’s height annoys him. Other times, like now, when Luke can bundle him up and make the world safe again, Michael wouldn’t trade it for all the orange juice in QFC.

Luke presses his face into the juncture of Michael’s neck and shoulder, cold nose trailing over his skin and instigating a smaller shiver down his spine. “I love you, too,” he breathes. “Can we go to bed and forget about it? I just want to hold you.”

“Yeah,” Michael’s throat clicks as he swallows, “yeah, we can do that, Lu. Shower first?”

Quiet acquiescence from his soulmate and he guides them down the hall in an awkward stumble. The bathroom in this apartment is a little bigger than the one in the first place they’d shared. Not by much, but by enough that the two of them can do things like share a shower and generally just be in the room at the same time without one of them being crushed somewhere. The water always takes a few to warm up, and Michael uses those moments to disrobe Luke with careful, sweet touches, kissing over his shoulders and collarbones.

Luke sighs a little, head tilted back, and Michael presses himself closer, the two of them nearly chest to chest now. Luke’s always had a little more to him than Michael does, a little thicker, but with less hair. They’re both rather pale, but that’s nothing surprising in Seattle. Most people are. Luke’s got these enchanting little freckles though. They dust over his nose and cheeks and there’s a smattering over his chest as well. Michael’s fingers trace them, brushing over a dusky nipple as Luke giggles.

“T-tickles,” he whispers quietly like he’s scared of breaking the spell.

Michael snorts a little, continuing the subtle touches and gradually working his way down the blonde’s torso. Crouching slowly as he goes, he finally reaches the waistband of Luke’s pants. Meeting and holding his gaze, Michael pops the button, working the heavy denim over his hips and thighs, down until Luke can step out of them. “Perfect,” he whispers adoringly, pressing kisses into the milky white thighs before him. “Goddamn, Lu.”

“Mikey…?” Luke whimpers out, biting his lip as he stares down.

“Calm, honey boy,” he soothes melodiously. “’S okay, gonna take care of you.”

This isn’t where either of them thought the night was headed but sometimes after they make up, Michael just wants to _touch_. His anxiety is always on the high end after their spats and being tactile is a way to reassure himself. Luke – Luke isn’t the type to allow something to happen that he doesn’t want. Every time Michael can reach out and touch him, is allowed to, it’s all the forgiveness he needs.

Steam begins to fill the tiny area and Michael straightens, pulling his own clothes off to be discarded haphazardly on the floor, mingling with Luke’s. Rattling the curtain open, he guides Luke in ahead of him, clambering over the lip of the bathtub and into the now warm spray. It never quite gets as hot as Luke likes, but it’s more than enough for Michael. For the life of him, he just can’t understand how Luke enjoys coming out of the shower looking like a fucking lobster.

They each have their own bar of soap, and Michael catches up Luke’s. It’s one of the few things they each splurge on, but it’s worth it for the small luxury of smelling good and feeling perfectly clean. Luke’s is sweet pea scented and leaves his skin soft as hell, Michael thinks, smoothing it over the dips and valleys of the younger man’s torso. Slow at first, lingering over the task of cleaning his other half. His soulmate. Luke doesn’t question the attention, never does, just relishes every bit of what he’s given. Michael can see the pleased expression, features relaxed with a soft quirk of lips. It’s enticing to say the least. They don’t need to speak, Michael steers him as needed to reach every area until he’s cleaned Luke head to toe and the whole room smells of summer flowers.

Eager to return the favor, Luke barely wastes a moment rinsing off before he’s running Michael’s own soap bar against him. Michael’s is light purple in color and lilac scented, a bit of a guilty pleasure but he likes the way it lingers for a while after he’s out of the shower. Humming softly, he relaxes into the temperate touches, the easy glide and the mix of sweet pea and lilac in the steamy air.

When they finish, he carries Luke, fluffy towel and all, to their modest full-size bed and spreads him out. Golden curls fan out over their bedspread and Luke giggles, eyes sparkling up playfully. They almost dare Michael to proceed, to initiate the intimacy they both crave from the moment. Michael’s never needed dares much. Impulsivity comes natural to him. He wants to cover Luke’s body with his own and kiss him, so he does.

The air in the room is chilly. In the light Seattle drizzle, the small bedroom window cracked to allow airflow into the apartment. As the breeze moves across Michael’s back, a shiver races down his spine and he arches down into Luke. He’s not the only one affected. The blonde’s nipples are pebbled where they press into Michael’s skin. Luke tastes a little like the cheap pizza rolls they keep in the freezer and use for dinner more often than he really finds tolerable. It’s comfortable, familiar and Michael moans, licking deeper. Luke’s lips are chapped despite the tube of Chapstick Michael constantly presses to his palm and something about that makes him want to shake his head and smile fondly.

Gradually, their bodies begin to respond to their intimate exchange until he can feel the firm length of Luke pressed to his thigh, radiating heat. Like the rest of him, Luke’s cock is long and a little thicker than average. Michael thinks it’s the kind of cock that would make dedicated bottoms cry if they knew Luke rarely likes to top. Of course, Luke’s also got the plushest bum known to mankind, enough to turn a few heads. It always chaps Michael’s ass when Luke laughs at how jealous he gets catching other men looking.

Under him, Luke breaks away with a soft groan. “I kinda just wanna snuggle. ‘S that okay?”

Giving him a soft smile, Michael rolls to the side, facing him. “Yeah, ‘course, Lu. You want little spoon?”

Luke nods, ducking his head to hide his expression. “Yeah,” he mumbles, turning and shuffling back until he’s tucked safely against Michael’s chest. “Love you.”

“Love you, too, honey boy.”

*

**_October 1993_ **

“Babe, come on, come out,” Luke plops himself on the corner of their bed, lower lip stuck out the way he knows Michael can almost never resist. “It’s been ages since we’ve had any fun.”

“Seemed like you were having fun last night,” Michael mumbles absentmindedly around the pen cap he’s chewing as he reads. He glances up just in time to catch the light blush on the blonde’s cheeks. They’d experimented with spanking and Luke came a little quicker than expected. Michael smirks and takes pity on him, sticking out his tongue playfully. “I thought you lost Ben’s old ID anyway?”

“I did,” Luke admits, still with a bit of color. “But Jack had to get a new one when he moved and he sent me the old one, so it’s okay.”

Michael groans, rolling his eyes. “Dude, we’re regulars everywhere around here, they all know you as Ben. You think they’re going to serve you if you show up suddenly named Jack?”

“Please,” Luke draws it out, long and dramatic. “If you think they don’t all know I’m underage – I don’t look like Ben. At all. And stop calling me dude, we’re dating.”

Setting his book aside, Michael pushes his glasses up and rubs at his eyes a moment before pulling them back down. “Yeah, alright, you don’t look that much like Ben, whatever. I’m still gonna call you dude though. It’s not weird, it’s just a generic term, Lu.”

“I hate it though,” Luke whines petulantly.

Michael laughs. “Yeah, but you love me.”

“I do.”

Sighing in acquiescence, Michael sits up a bit and ruffles his hair as he yawns. “Alright, I guess I can finish reading before class in the morning. I’ll come out, but I’m not staying late, deal?”

Luke grins, his Cheshire Cat grin. It’s wide, full of teeth and a little frightening. “Deal.”

“Love you,” Michael pecks the tip of his small, upturned nose before sliding out of bed and making for their closet to find pants for the night.

*

**_24 th December 1995, Early Evening_ **

Michael paces, feeling out of place in his own skin and more than a little lost. He wishes Luke would finish getting ready. The longer he sits on their tiny sofa wallowing in anxiety, the more he starts to sweat through his suit. It’s not very comfortable and probably doesn’t fit him entirely correctly, a bit baggy, but it’s the best he’s got. Already, the white button-down sticks to his back. He can’t do this with perspiration stains in his suit. He can’t do this if he stinks like fear sweats either, for that matter. When Luke finally appears from the bathroom looking gorgeous as ever, Michael’s about two seconds from undressing entirely and showering again.

Luke must see some of the panic in his eyes because he’s at Michael’s side in a flash, frowning gently. “It’s just my parents and Jack. Ben couldn’t make it this year, and you know them all. You’ve met them.”

Throat feeling tight, Michael chokes a little even as he nods quickly in answer. Yeah, he’s met Luke’s family and his brothers. Multiple times, in fact, but they’ve never done the holidays or any sort of event together. Michael’s never even been over and stayed for dinner. It just… hadn’t happened. He’s certainly never proposed to their son in front of them before.

Sure, they can’t get married as things are but Michael has faith that someday that will change. It can’t be this way forever, progress is inevitable. They’re stuck with the Singer v. Hara decision for now, but not until the end of time. That was 1974, and Michael knows somewhere in his soul that one day he’ll be able to make good on the ring in his pocket. Someday, it won’t be 1974 anymore. His biggest fear is that Luke’s family won’t see it the same way, that they’ll laugh or sneer at his attempt to engage in this ceremony reserved for heterosexual couples. As scared as he is, Luke’s family has always been important to him, and this is about Luke, after all. About their love, making it open and declaring his intentions.

Sweat breaks out along his hairline now. The tiny velvet box feels like a fucking lead weight in his pocket, heavy enough that getting down to one knee should be the easy part. It’s all the rest that scares the hell out of him. He wants to do it justice, wants to give Luke the beautiful, romantic proposal he deserves. In reality, he knows he’s probably going to stutter, turn bright red, trip himself, or one of various other embarrassing things, to ruin it. He’s definitely got swampy pits now and Luke is looking more and more concerned. Taking a deep breath, he allows himself to nuzzle into his neck for just a moment, palms resting heavy on the blonde’s hips, squeezing gently. “Okay,” he croaks, “okay, let’s go.” If there’s one thing he knows for sure, it’s that they don’t want to keep mama Liz waiting, and they’ve got a little bit of a drive ahead to get out of the city and over to Luke’s parents’ place. Michael’s not sure if he’s grateful for the car time or not.

Luke takes his hand, giving a soft squeeze and thankfully ignoring the damp state of Michael’s palm as they take the stairs down and walk to the car. Tossing the keys to Luke, he slides into the passenger seat with a long exhale. The car is Luke’s, but the share it. When they moved in together, there was no sense in both of them trying to afford a vehicle, so they sold Michael’s and kept Luke’s blue 1983 Honda Civic. The thing is solid and dependable, just under 100,000 miles. He’s pretty sure it used to belong to one of Luke’s older brothers, but he can’t remember which. Not that it matters, he’s just trying to keep his brain on anything that’s not going to send him into a panic attack.

The engine turns over and Luke reaches down, retrieving their binder of CDs and slapping it into Michael’s lap. “Your choice,” he grins.

Ordinarily, he’d be all over it. Ordinarily, he’d tease Luke for being all sensitive to his needs. Instead, he flips the binder open and selects Radiohead’s _The Bends_ with fingers that shake only marginally. “Planet Telex” streams through the speakers and he automatically reaches forward to adjust the volume down fractionally. Loud music isn’t conducive to his current headspace. They ride in a nervous silence that’s somehow still warm, with Luke’s fingers intertwined tightly with his own.

Mama Liz has the door thrown open the instant their tires roll up onto the driveway. The Christmas wreath hanging from the door swings a little with the motion and Michael watches it, stomach matching the movement. Liz rushes out, embracing her son eagerly as he slides from the vehicle, protesting the whole ordeal. Michael climbs out much more slowly and is treated to his own crushing hug in turn. Somehow, that hug eases a great deal of his nerves and Michael can’t fully explain why. It feels like being welcomed in so many different ways, not just as a guest for Christmas dinner, and that’s something he didn’t realize he needed so badly from Luke’s family.

Liz leaves them with Andy and Jack as she goes to finish the roast. The whole house is vibrant and warm, not to mention the delicious scents wafting about. Michael finds it easy to relax further, falling into lighthearted banter with Jack as Luke’s dad grills him about his school courses. He can’t remember why he’d been so nervous before. They love each other, Luke’s family. More than anything, they want to see their son and brother happy, and they’ve accepted Michael as a part of that happiness with graceful ease, even though he’s sure it was anything but. It must have been a hell of a shock when Luke came home at sixteen with soul lights wrapped tight to his slim frame and an equally illuminated Michael in tow. His family sure wasn’t thrilled right off the bat. It took them quite a bit of time to adjust and accept the course of Michael’s life.

In the end, he does stutter, but it’s okay. Luke’s eyes are wide and shinning like Michael holds the keys to the universe for him. The white gold band settles easily over the blonde’s ring finger, inset sapphire winking up at them both and just like that, Luke is his fiancé. Michael’s face feels like it’s about to split where his smile is starting to outgrow it. It’s without comparison the happiest he’s ever been. “I love you,” Michael whispers as he takes his seat and conversations resumes.

*

**_24 th December 1995, Late Night_ **

“My parents helped,” Michael explains as they lay curled together in bed. “I’m gonna be paying them back as I can. It’ll take me a little while but I can do it. I graduate this spring and I’ll get a job. I need to do this with you, I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

It’s winter and Luke’s skin is smooth, milky white in its paleness under the moonlight streaming in. He twists the ring gently about his finger, smiling a secret, pleased sort of smile. “I love it, Mike. I can’t believe you made my mom cry though.”

Michael buries his answering grin in the crook of an arm thrown over his face. “I didn’t mean to!” he protests, a slight whine invading the tone. “I didn’t know she was going to cry. I just wanted to do it with your family there. I know family’s a big deal for you.”

Luke peels the arm away from his face, leaning close and nudging their noses together. “It was perfect,” he whispers, lips ghosting over Michael’s before connecting in a heated press, waiting for Michael to take control.

This is one of Michael’s favorite parts, when Luke initiates and then surrenders. One hand moves to tangle in the long, gold curls, tugging gently and listening to the resulting soft moan. This is how Luke got his pet name, honey boy. These beautiful curls. Michael’s always been obsessed with them. His own hair, he keeps short and dyed any of a multitude of colors. Luke’s is a silky halo and Michael holds tight as he presses into his willing mouth, tongue tracing the familiar territory to a soundtrack of gasps and whines from his partner. It’s heated and Luke’s fingers are soon scrabbling at Michael’s sweatpants, at his worn shirt, anything to reveal more skin. Michael breaks away, panting and smirking.

“Engagement sex is gonna rule.”

“Oh my god, _shut up_ ,” Luke groans, taking the separation as a chance to yank the shirt over Michael’s head and flick teasingly at a nipple.

Hissing slightly, Michael ducks down, sucking a bright bruise into the base of Luke’s throat in retaliation. When he’s finished, he admires his work and helps him out of his own ratty, thin shirt. Luke shimmies out of his sweats too, the flush spreading over his chest urging Michael to do the same.

Both naked in the tangle of the bedsheets, they explore each other’s bodies as if for the first time. Sex with Luke is – every time is like the first time. It always takes his breath away that he’s lucky enough to be destined to love this human. Luke’s fingers snag on his lights and he gives a soft tug, forcing a groan from Michael’s throat.

“Love the way you look like this,” Luke murmurs, straddling his narrow hips, lips brushing over the column of his throat. “When it’s dark like this they cast all kinds of pretty shadows. Your collarbones, this little dip,” his tongue sweeps through the hollow of Michael’s throat and he shivers.

“Should see yourself,” he whispers back, swallowing convulsively as his fingers wind into Luke’s own strands of lights. “So fucking gorgeous,” he breathes, throat working once again. Palms moving to cup his soulmate’s waist, he flips them, slow and careful. Hitching Luke’s long legs around his hips, Michael grinds down filthy, a shuddery moan echoing between them.

Their cocks move together in a slow, sensual catch and drag, the pleasure rippling through Michael like a live wire.

Luke’s back arches hard and he whines, “I love you.”

“Fuck, me too,” Michael gasps, breathless, “love you so fuckin’ much.”

They end up fucking slow and sweet, something they rarely have the patience for. Luke eventually coaxes Michael to lie back and let him do the work, riding him with a kind of fervor and emotional intimacy Michael didn’t know it was possible to achieve with sex alone.

*

**_Saturday, 8th June 1996_ **

It’s graduation day. Finally, finally, finally. All the hard work, the long hours of study, the sacrifices and barely scraping by… Today is commencement. He’ll sit through an undoubtedly boring speech by Senator what’s-his-ass from New Jersey. He’ll walk across a stage and accept his empty little holder and wait for the real diploma to come in. He’ll look out in the crowd and he’ll see Luke because no one else will be lit up like they are. Michael’s nearly giddy with excitement.

It’s not that big of a deal, really. His parents weren’t able to make it up from Australia, so it’s just him and the Hemmings family. Michael still blushes at the thought of Liz and Andy making a big deal over his graduation like he’s their actual son and not just Luke’s fiancé.

So, he does all of it, the walk, the photos, the speeches, the cap toss. After it’s all over, he presses through the crowd to Luke. His soulmate lifts him, spinning him in a small circle.

Luke’s gotten so _big_ since they first met when he was sixteen. He’s twenty-two now, broad as a tree and tall as one, too. It suits him though, the scruff that’s starting to grow a little long, the hair tie he carries now for when the long curls start to drive him nuts. Michael’s grown too, though. Not really, he’s still pretty short, but personally. He’s not the same, not by a long shot.

“You did it!” Luke shouts in his ear, crazy ecstatic to celebrate this achievement.

Michael laughs, loud and carefree as he spins through the air before Luke sets him down. “Just ‘cause you’re a giant doesn’t mean you can manhandle me,” he states, attempting to stifle the smile about to break free. “But yeah. I fuckin’ did it. ‘M done!”

Behind Luke, the rest of the family waits with congratulations and bright grins. Ben, Jack, Andy and Liz all with hugs and thumps to the back that shake his frame before they turn as a group to head for the cars. Luke’s got the keys for theirs, the plan is to meet at Chez Shea for the Hemmings’ to treat them to a graduation brunch, with Luke and Michael having an intimate celebration together that night.

The thing about vehicles is how quickly they can move. Michael’s still lagging at the back of the pack as Luke darts into the street, the Hemmings clan separating them. It’s the perfect vantage point to watch his entire life fall apart. As Luke enters the crosswalk, he watches the man behind the wheel of his new model Audi Cabriolet swing the corner on a right hand turn a block back without looking or slowing for the red light in front of him as he digs in his center console. He watches the acceleration, realizes it’s not going to slow, and Luke’s in the middle. 

Ringing somewhere in the back of his mind, he can hear himself screaming Luke’s name far too late. There was never going to be enough time for Michael to warn him, but he tries, screams so loudly his throat is raw as Luke flies backward over the hood and to the pavement. It’s slowed, a stop-motion production in front of his eyes, the way his smile turns to shock, blonde curls splay in the air, the lights surrounding him popping with force and weight, one shoe rolling away, knocked clean from the purple-socked foot. The sound of the windshield crunching over the hysterical shrieks of Luke’s family. The car accelerating again, leaving them behind. Not stopping. All the blood and the noise, there’s so much _noise_.

Knocking into Jack as he rushes blindly forward, he falls hard to his knees next to Luke’s crumpled form. Somehow the voice inside him has dried up and he reaches to turn Luke onto his back as tears pour down his cheeks. He tries to swallow, chokes, there’s no moisture and his mouth is dry as desert air. Two of Luke’s family collide with him as they too crash down next to their brother and son. Michael’s not sure who it is, can’t take his eyes off his soulmate to look.

Luke.

Luke is absolutely covered in the red flowing from under his hair, his mouth, nose and ears, and that’s just his head. He coughs and retches, cries and convulses in an uncontrollable seizure. Someone must have called 911 because Michael can hear the sirens screaming far off, he thinks, but it might just be the ringing in his ears. Remembering enough first aid to know he shouldn’t move his boy, Michael helplessly attempts to staunch the bleeding with trembling hands but there’s so much. _Too much_ , he thinks in a panic, _there’s too much fucking blood_ _and I can see one of his ribs poking out, oh jesus fucking god._

Liz is still screaming somewhere behind them, and more hands join Michael’s as the three of them kneeling there attempt to hold the pieces of the prone form together long enough for the ambulance to arrive. Luke’s not conscious, not anymore, but Michael can see his chest moving with jerky, ragged inhales that barely get air into him. It’s still something, it’s movement. Movement is better than nothing at all.

*

**_Late November 2019 (Present)_ **

Michael’s forty-six and tired. Bone tired, in a way he never thought he would be at this stage of his life.

He tugs gently at the collar of his shirt, leaning against a pay phone as he waits for his cab. More often than not, his lights feel too tight, like they’re strangling him. Adjusting his shirt collar isn’t going to help and he knows it but attempting to adjust the lights would be worse. They’re not going to move. The last thing he wants is to draw attention to them, he already suffers too many knowing looks, pitying him as he tries to go about his life. In the dark, like now, he’s a beacon. The flickering brightness draws glances simply by illuminating the black. Sometimes he wonders what it’d be like if he used them to hang himself instead. Would the Universe allow it to happen that way? _Somehow_ , Michael thinks, _it would be cosmically fitting_.

The thing about the lights – they’re supposed to be a blessing, but they’re not. Not for Michael, anyway. A person gets their lights when they meet their soulmate, like a sign from the universe so they know not to let go, not ever, of that person. Not many ever get them. Most will go through life, settle down with someone they can find an approximation of love for and move on, content knowing that soulmates are rare. For those lucky enough, the lights appear, wrapped around the body and lit up like miniature suns for all to see.

Lucky people.

That’s what Michael used to think when he’d see them. They’re lucky people, few and far between.

He didn’t always hate his lights, of course. Once upon a lifetime ago, they were a celebration of everything he held closest.

Luke was the good in his world. He could be so many different things on the axis of a single moment, and Michael thinks he misses that most of all. Being kept on his toes, always something new in his soulmate’s demeanor. Sometimes they would celebrate the silliest comments, laughing until they cried, taking polaroid photos to prove it. Others, they’d curl together, barely speaking but somehow swaddled in a moment of perfect contentment, noses nudging together as they lean in for a quiet press of lips.

You don’t automatically fall in love just because you meet your soulmate. The lights are just there to alert you, the rest is still some assembly required. Falling in love with Luke is the greatest adventure of Michael’s life. Of course, no one ever told him it would be so short.

Fate can be cruel that way.

Michael never needed anyone to tell him what it meant. It meant the other half of his soul was gone. One lit and the other extinguished. If he cared to look, he’s willing to bet he’d find the flickering started, down to the nanosecond, at the moment Luke’s heart stopped beating.

He remembers making it to the hospital, remembers shaking between Ben and Jack as Andy held Liz. And the waiting, all the waiting, endless hours of _waiting_. When the surgeon emerges, Michael knows, can see it written in the lines of the woman’s face. His lights have been flickering for twenty minutes already and he breaks down before she can utter a word. Luke’s dead. Luke’s never coming back, never ever. In a universe where he found his missing piece, the universe took it back and he’ll never know the feeling of rightness again.

Losing Luke is something he’ll never recover from. All these years later and he’s still wondering around blindly, half whole and completely broken. The worst part is the public advertisement of his pain. Soulmates are rare, and to see one with flickering lights – well. People give him a wide berth. Probably out of some sense of fear or pity or Michael doesn’t know.

Sometimes he misses him so bad it becomes a physical pain, like if he looks down, he’ll realize the right half of his body’s missing, that he’s been cleaved in two. He’ll never find love again because no one will ever compare to Luke and no one will dare to try. They’d live with the constant reminder that Michael had someone better and he lost them. Luke’s ghost will be a part of every interaction Michael has for the rest of his life, silently there, an invisible and prevalent force.

A yellow cab glides to a stop at the curb and Michael pushes upright, stepping over and sliding into the car with the sullen mumble of an address, on his way home for another night to sleep and escape back to his love, if only for a while.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave kudos/comments! I'd love to hear any/all thoughts you have about this.


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